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A TALK 



WITH MY CLASS. 






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BY A TEACHEE 

AT THE OLD MARKET HALL SUNDAY SCHOOL. 




EICHMOND, VA.: 

WHITTET & SHEPPEESON, COE. TENTH. & MAIN STREETS. 
1885. 



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This was written for a Class, during the necessary 
suspension of the Sunday School for repairs needed at 
the Old Market Hall. 



LC Control Number 




tmp96 031681 



PREFACE. 



THIS .little " Talk with my Class" was intended 
for private circulation. In deciding to send 
it out for a wader sphere among children, it may 
not be inappropriate to mention the origin and 
conduct of the religious services with wliich the 
Sunday-school, referred to, was connected. 

About February 1, 1885, Rev. Dr. Moses D. 
Hoge, the well known Presbyterian divine of the 
city of Richmond, commenced regular sermons, of 
particular missionary interest and effect, in the 
large hall of the Old Market building, on Main 
street. This enterprise, soon combining the or- 
ganization of a large Sunday-school, constantly 
gained influence for good from the beginning; 
with increased commendation by the press, and 
the grateful appreciation of all classes of our 
people, It was in a short association with the 
Sunday-school mission w 7 ork at this point, un- 



4 PREFACE. 

influenced by denominational preference, that the 
writer adopted a firm faith in the necessity for 
such work, as the strongest reformatory agency 
in our hour of need. 

A distinguished orator has said that communism 
is a foe more to be apprehended here, than in any 
European society. It is the ever-recurring, im- 
pending, threatening tendency, resulting from 
disruption of law and order in every revolu- 
tionized country; then surely to be dreaded 
here; but only as a mass can the evil of moral 
chaos crush and destroy. The entering wedge 
of honest, earnest effort, here and there, tending 
to the elevation of religion, morality and refine- 
ment, must scatter this control of matter over 
mind into helpless fragments. 

It needs no foresight to know that the habit of 
a century is not to be set aside. Those who have 
been with us in a state of servitude, must, as our 
paid laborers, continue to be influenced — as they 
find that we are their best friends — by their con- 
tact with the white race. We must, therefore,, 
sustain the indirect motive power, in the prevail- 
ing standard for rectitude of character in our own 



PREFACE. i> 

race. Two elements will in this way be controlled. 
Every thinking mind must see in the Sunday-school 
mission work, an effective lever for the whole sys- 
tem of advance, and for this, the best material is to 
be found among our most educated and refined 
people. A plodding, unremunerated, struggling, 
and in some respects, disheartening labor, it is not 
without its attractions; and combined Christian 
effort, moving as a phalanx, steadily, onward and 
upward in reform, must, even on earth, meet with 
acknowledgment and reward. 

Historic Truth, bending low on her pathway, to 
gather, and to clasp as her own, gems of humble 
effort, but ever living light, these luminous rays of 
•self-sacrifice will be transmitted in letters of gold, 
for example to nations yet to be regenerated ; and 
this will be the record: "Such the battle for the 
strong, such the real heroes, the real conquest, in 
Yirginia's salvation ! " 

This hand of sympathy and appreciation is now 
Tield out to the faithful Sunday-school teachers 
throughout our State, by one who has learned in 
sl short and imperfect experience, vaguely to esti- 
mate their sublime aims and results. 



6 PREFACE. 

The writer of this little "talk" for Virginia boys 
and girls, will, outside of its defined charity, feel 
compensated, if its earnestness, as its only recom- 
mendation, puts "one thought of prayer" into the 
heart of boy or girl, with pulses throbbing for 
the welfare of Old Virginia. 

Eichmond, August 6, 1885. 



TO MY BOYS. 



I HAVE written something to try to interest 
"good men and women" in going among Vir- 
ginia boys and girls who may need them as 
teachers, and now a few more words to you. 

What is made by the sale of this little book will 
be used for charitable objects. You must feel that 
this is your gift, for at first your teacher's "talk" 
was only intended for you. You must take plea- 
sure in this, and trying to "remember" what I have 
said, you must, as far as you can, make the texts 
from the Bible I have given here, the texts to> 
guide your life and conduct. 

YOUK SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHEB.. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



CHAPTEK I. 



I. "Thou shalt have no other gods before nie."' 

II. " Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven 
image, or any likeness of anything that is in 
heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or 
that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt 
not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them; 
for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting 
the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, unto, 
the third and fourth generation of them that hate 
me, and showing mercy unto thousands of them 
that love me and keep my commandments." 

III. " Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord 
thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him- 
guiltless that taketh his name in vain." 

IV. "Eemember the Sabbath day to keep it 
holy. Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy 
work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the- 
Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work* 



10 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy man-ser- 
vant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy 
stranger that is within thy gates; for in six days 
the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all 
that in them is, and rested the seventh day; 
wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day, and 
hallowed it." 

X^OIT must remember, my boys, how much I 
-*- have wanted you to learn the ten com- 
mandments. I have had the first four com- 
mandments printed for you at the head of this 
chapter, to have the words before you, when- 
ever you take up this little book. The story I 
give you, is to explain these four command- 
ments, as they show you your duty towards 
God, from which all good must come. 

It was a town, not a day's journey from 
Richmond, as we travel west, towards the 
mountains. Not where you would see moun- 
tains, and nothing else, but fields for boys to 
play in, like those near Richmond, and green 
lanes leading off, with houses here and there, 
with vines and flowers, and children rolling on 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



11 



the grass ; and one side, would be a well-worn 
path under a row of trees, through turf, covered 
with buttercups and daisies; and beyond, fields 
of corn and wheat, — just such lanes as the 
one to Oakwood cemetery, where you have 
been so often. It was a small place, this 
town I speak of, and had no big cemetery, but 
only graves round the old churches, like those 
in St. John's Church-yard on Church Hill, so 
these pretty lanes for the children, led off only 
to the blue mountains, which seemed a wall, 
next to the sky to hold up the old town and 
the bright fields around it. Off at one end,, 
were factories, like some you have seen in 
Richmond, where some of the clothes you wear 
may be woven; and a smaller river than James 
River (as you see it) made its way by the town 
to look lost in the mountains. The rivers in- 
this part of the country are so clear you can 
see every stone at the bottom, and the ground 
is so rocky, the water tosses over in first one- 
little waterfall and then another; and as this 



12 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

river, except where dammed up to work a large 
mill, is shallow and entirely without danger, 
the boys who are not working for their living 
M r ade about in it most of the long summer 
days. 

In a cottage just out of this town, on one of 
the green lanes, a lady sat one evening, with 
ten or twelve children around her. She had 
been sick for a long while; and, afraid she had 
not time to do much more good, she had called 
her own boys, with other children, from their 
play in the lane to tell them about God and 
how to serve Him. She sat still, for how could 
she show the wild boys that loved play so much 
that they could not play always, but that God 
would be with them in play, in work, in joy 
and sorrow, and that it would make them only 
happier to serve Him and to praise Him, simply 
by loving Him, — out of love coming service 
and praise, and love coming from faith ! I 
shall tell you, " my boys," how she taught them 
that faith and love. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 13 

As she waited, with prayer in her heart, the 
light from the setting sun gave an answer sent 
from heaven. My own boys — those who went 
with me once to Hollywood — must remember 
when we stood just below the James River 
falls, the red light of the setting sun made 
the green fields on the Manchester side look 
deeper green, the foam of the falls whiter 
still, and the trees of Hollywood more beauti- 
ful and green. You saw the houses, on down to 
Rockets, and below, with their windows flam- 
ing as from a great fire about to burst forth; 
like the fire you have heard of, all through 
that part of Richmond, the last year of the 
war, — then all this light seemed to sink into 
the river, which was like golden glass. I re- 
mind you, because I want you to see before you 
the sunset I tell you of now, — the smaller 
town, with its windows flaming, as you saw the 
windows that evening from Hollywood, the 
green fields and the blue mountains deeper 
green and blue, from the sunset light, and the 



li A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

river, not one unbroken glass of shining gold, 
but with its clear water and tiny waterfalls, as 
if thousands of bright stones had been showered 
out of the sun — you know when the rain conies 
down in showers, and you will know what I 
mean. 

I forgot to tell you about the church-tower. 
You have, most of you, been high up on Main 
street, in Richmond. Have you seen the 
Presbyterian church, near Main, on Fifth 
street? It has a tower, different from any 
tower or steeple in Richmond. Well, this 
tower 1 speak of now is very much like it, and, 
being higher than any church in the little town,, 
seemed to rest in a stronger and yet softer 
light, as if blessing and peace must be there. 
You must stop and think if you ever fail to- 
understand my words. Blessing means what 
is good in every hour we live ; and peace, when 
you are quiet and happy; and I mean that 
this church looked like a place where people 
prayed and were glad to pray. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 15 

As Mrs. Gray saw all this beauty, — more 
beautiful perhaps than what we saw from Hol- 
lywood, — her large dark eyes bright, and her 
pale face lighted up with joy, one poor, thin 
hand held out to point to the setting sun, she 
looked to the children as if sent from heaven ; 
but she was not from heaven; she was only 
ready for heaven, with prayer and love for 
God in her heart. She points and says: "See, 
my children, God made all that ! and he tells 
us 'Thou shalt have none other gods before 
me. 5 It means this, that you must say in your 
hearts this is my God, and you must ask Him 
to show you how to serve Him. You must 
pray to Him, and to no one else; and in loving 
Him, you must love to pray to Him, and you 
must love all things as given by this God !" 
"My children, do you understand?" 
Six of the boys said "yes;*' and the one lit- 
tle girl, with long, yellow hair pushed back, 
and her big eyes fixed on the light, said, "I 
know I understands !" Her real name was 



16 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

Susy, but she was called "Joy" by the neigh- 
bors, for she was so merry in her ways — al- 
ways out in the light, as if she was a piece of 
sunshine herself — always happy, and ready to 
help with her little hands. Strange, her 
other name was " Hope," and no names could 
have suited her better. 

One little boy named " Jim " sat quiet, look- 
ing too at the light, as so beautiful, but looking 
as if he "understands" just a little. 

Not seeing this, Mrs. Gray silently watched 
the shadows gather, in a look of rest every- 
where. Don't you know, when the sun has set, 
how a mantle seems to be let down in shelter, 
as if God said from heaven, " I will be with 
you through the night!" 

I want you, my boys, — and when I say " my 
boys," I mean the real boys I learned to care 
for so much, — to notice these changes through 
the day, in the evening, and at night ; for there 
is a lesson in every one, to show us about God 
If you feel that, as you are so much in the 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 17 

open air, you must all the time be learning 
something to make you better boys. 

Mrs. Gray says, "The first four command- 
ments are intended to show you your duty to 
God. I have given you the first command- 
ment." She then repeats the second command- 
ment, as printed for you at the head of this 
chapter. " This commands us to pray to God, to 
love Him, and to serve Him in every way, as the 
Bible teaches us we must do. Many ignorant 
races have made figures, called images, to wor- 
ship, because they cannot see God, and w T e are 
commanded to worship from faith. We are 
to feel that the God- who made us, and all 
things, is too great to be brought nearer to us 
by any work of man's hands; that He is every- 
where, to hear us, and to help us, in answer to 
real prayer." Now, my dear children, you 
have only to believe this. 

The third commandment, I fear, I can easily 
remind you of, through a very sinful habit. I 
fear you sometimes curse, or speak God's name 



18 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

lightly ; that is, without thinking what it means. 
Several hang their heads, and say nothing; one 
or two speak up, and say, "no indeed!" — an- 
other was heard to say, " I would'nt think of 
doing so." Little Joy just looks out of her 
sweet, honest, true eyes, and says nothing; but 
" Jim" — little Jim Lawson — who didn't under- 
stand, stammmers out, almost sobbing, " I cusses 
sometimes, and I tells stories too." It seems 
to me I remember hearing a boy named " Robert 
Hope" say the same; and I say of Jim and 
Robert, a boy who is brave in telling the truth 
will be apt to do well. 

Mrs. Gray thought so too, and bending to 
pat Jim's head, she said, "Try not to do so 
again, my child; but I am glad you told the 
truth." 

Now, "Remember the Sabbath day to keep 
it holy." You can read me the rest, William. 
Her oldest son reads the fourth commandment, 
and after thinking, she says, feebly, for she is 
now very tired: "I cannot better explain this 



A TALK WITH. MY CLASS.- 19 

command than by a very beautiful answer 
given in a catechism you may all learn some 
day: 'Man's chief end is to glorify God, and 
to enjoy him for ever.' Now, this fully takes 
in the meaning, not only of this commandment r 
but the first four commandments. To glorify 
God is to give thanks to Him ; to ask all things 
from Him as the giver of every good, showing 
this knowledge by our whole life. To enjoy is 
to enjoy praising Him; to enjoy the sweetness 
of going to Him in prayer; to enjoy the things 
from His hand ; that is, clothing, food, and every 
pleasure and employment we have in this beauti- 
ful world. The more He is so enjoyed, the more 
He is glorified. Sunday we must only glorify 
and enjoy Him more than on the other days r 
because we have more time in this day, of rest 
from the work of the week — work which must 
be well done as a duty." 

One boy asks, "Can't we do anything but go- 
to church and pray on Sundays?" 

" We can pray, my child, in the fields and 



"20 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

woods. ; A prayer may be a thought, a word. 
You can do anything Sunday which will not 
keep you from a prayerful heart. Now, can't 
you judge by that? Sunday is giving to you 
this greatest happiness, and Sunday may be 
the happiest day in the week. We must do 
only necessary work on the Sabbath, but chil- 
dren can't stay in the house all day. You 
must love to go to church, as God's house of 
worship; you must do your best to learn at 
the Sunday-school, and you can take the same 
prayerful happy heart to the open fields, where 
every piece of grass, every tree and flower, can 
make you think of God. 

And now, my children, I have told you 
about the commandments which speak of man's 
duty to God, and I tell you here, that loving 
and serving God, you will learn the charity 
commanded to your fellow-man in the last six 
commandments — next to your duty to God, 
being your duty to your father and mother. 

These ten commandments were given to men 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. ' 21 

in the Old Testament ; but people were still so 
sinful, that Jesus Christ came to suffer for 
them; and giving them the same command- 
ments, he showed them, by his words and works, 
how to be better men. Owing all to Him, we 
pray to God in His name, and the Holy Spirit, 
left with us, a ' Comforter,' to put good thoughts 
in our hearts; we ought surely to feel that we 
have only to believe, to ask, and to receive 
such offered mercy. Some of you can under- 
stand; and when the others are larger, they 
may think of what 1 have said." 

" 1 cannot talk more now," and her voice is 
very weak. " I cannot tell you more to-night," 
and she silently touches each little head. She 
never talked to them on earth after that night. 
We shall see how her last words were remem- 
bered. 

They turned, as they heard her speak again,, 
and heard the whisper, " To glorify and to en- 
joy for ever!" 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE FIKST PKAYEK. 

THE only children under ten years old, in 
the little band who met in Mrs. Gray's 
porch, were Joy Hope, who lived with her old 
grandmother not far off, and Jim Lawson, 
about seven years old, and nearly a year 
younger than " our Joy," as she was called. 

Little Jim lived, too, on the same lane, and 
minded cows for the near neighbors, day after 
day, all the summer time. His earnings helped 
somewhere, he reckoned; but Jim had a poor 
rsort of life, with his father often too drunk to 
£0 to his work, and ready to abuse the hard- 
working mother, and to slam away at the poor 
boy, who always had a stupid, sullen look, as if 
he didn't know and he didn't care. This was 
just because Jim didn't know exactly what he 
was made for, and whether anybody really 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



23 



cared for him ; for after Jim spent that eve- 
ning with Mrs. Gray, the neighbors began to 
say, "Well, Jim Lawson is coming to some 
good after all." 

He didn't "understand" at first; but hope 
was put into his heart by kind words, and you 
will see how this led him to understand better 
than many boys who have been used to kind 
words, without the prayer with them, that 
brought the Holy Spirit as his teacher, and 
this is what I want to tell you about. 

Jim loved his cows very much, and they 
loved him. As he was one day driving them 
gently down the lane, so that they would not 
be too much heated, a bird flew by, dropping 
a piece of paper. It rested on his head a mo- 
ment, and then fluttered down at his feet.. 
You have often, boys, seen nests made of 
grass, bits of paper, and old rags. This bird 
had picked up a scrap of paper to carry it to- 
iler nest. Jim was about to pass it by, but he 
saw writing, and said, " Well, the bird brought 



M 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



it to me, and I'll take it home, and, if mother 
has done washing, maybe she'll tell me." 
Jim slipped it into his pants' pocket, and went 
on with his cows. He might have forgotten 
it was there. Presently, though— for he had 
a hole in his pants' pocket — down came the 
paper, right on his foot this time. You know, 
boys, when you have a hole in your pants' 
pocket, everything must go straight through- 
Well, there it was, and the plain side up. Jim 
gave it a kick, but, as it blew away, there was 
the writing again, and Jim saw it and stepped 
back, and again it was away. Now he would 
have it, wind or not, and he had a rare chase to 
catch it once more. Jim pinned it this time to 
his coat-lining, and somehow he cared to keep 
it now, for he felt for it several times, and, 
when he had put the cows up at the different 
houses, he ran home as hard as he could. 

" Mother," he says, all out of breath, "just 
read this letter ! " 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS 



25 



The mother's hands were full of soap-suds, 
"but she bent over. 

" Well, I guess I can, as it's that little ; then 
you run along, and don't bother me with the 
last rinsing of my best pieces." 

She spelled out the words: "Ask, and ye 
shall receive." And underneath : " Those were 
God's words ! " 

The father came home very drunk, and 
struck his boy several times; but Jim was 
thinking too much to mind — of the words on 
the paper, of the gentle lady who told him 
of God, and how he had never prayed a single 
prayer ! Perhaps, if he should ask God for all 
he wanted, he would have the good things other 
people have. He thought of it often that night. 

Now Jim's uncle was a kind-hearted man, 
and felt sorry for him. He had made him a 
large paper kite, and Jim was as proud of it 
as he could be. The next morning he jumped 
up early, to get back in time for his cows, and 
running as fast as he could to his uncle's 



26 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



house, he waked him up, and asked him "just 
to write down all he wanted." 

" Going shopping, my boy ? why, that's some- 
thing new." 

Jim said not a word, but ran even faster 
than he came, to get up his cows ; and before 
the sun was high, there was Jim, knee-high in 
the grass the cows loved, the kite in one hand, 
and the paper, with his top, his wheelbarrow, 
a suit of clothes, and many other things he 
wanted, — some for his mother, — and all written 
very plain. He went to his old seat under a 
tree, on a little hill, so he could watch his cows. 
There he tied his paper to the kite, and soon 
the kite rose up in the air, and, with its long 
string, seemed to touch the sky. Little Jim 
didn't know any better, and lie thought it 
would get nearer to God that way; he screamed 
aloud, too, so that God might hear: "O 
God, take my prayer ?" 

Now, this seems a poor way of praying, to 
you who know better; but it was prayer, and 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 27 

while it was not answered in Jim's way, and 
lie didn't know it was answered at all, you will 
see it was answered in God's way, for it led on 
to other thoughts of prayer, with answer at 
last, that Jim could feel and know to be from 
his God. 

Jim's father worked at one of the factories 
when he worked at all. As he was an "extra- 
good hand," they said ; when Bober, they put 
up with his times of drunkenness, — often for 
days. During that winter, when Jim's cows 
were all fed at their own Btalls 3 and lie staid 
about home, he used to be sent often, with his 
father's supper to the factory, when the hands 
were kept there for a press of work. As he 
did not know the way after dark, in that part 
of the town, he would be made to wait. 

One Saturday night, poor Jim was dragged 
by a drinking house, and kept there for hours, 
while his father drank up most of his week's 
wages. They were turned out at last, and 
stumbled up the dark street. 



28 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



"Not there, father," he says, as his father 
steps on an old cellar door. They wander 
against a brick wall ; " Not there ! Oh ! father,, 
you will kill yourself!" And on to the river, 
just here very deep, where the child hears,, 
though he cannot see, the roar of the mill-dam. 
"Not there, father," his face white and stream- 
ing with tears of agony. 

His father turns, and passing down a narrow 
alley, they enter the wide fields, for the man 
seems to want to get away from men, who 
might harm him still more. 

" Oh ! father, we are lost !" And they stood 
in an open plain outside of the town, silver- 
paved in the moonlight — for you know how 
the paved street will look like one block of 
stone, and this was like a lake of silver. The 
wind is heard through the long grass ; not with 
the harsh sound when it rustles through fields 
of wheat and corn, but with the sigh of some 
one in pain ; the mountains looked dark in the 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 29 

night, instead of their day-time blue, and the 
town seemed a shadow behind them. 

" Not here, father ! " — and a thought came to 
him of that other prayer. " God will hear me 
now, for I have nobody to help me;" then, in 
a little while, " Father, let us pray!" — and he 
kneels, and, raising his eyes to the moonlit sky, 
he says, with his whole heart and strength, but 
this time, in a low tone, for all at once, he felt 
that God was near, " God help me to take 
care of father, for Jesus Christ's sake." 

He "remembered" then ; for he remembered 
Christ! 

My boys, mountains rising very high are 
called grand ; the statue of Washington, in our 
capitol square, is called grand, and splendid 
houses are called grand ; but the child's prayer, 
rising higher than the bright plain, the quiet 
town, the beautiful river; higher and yet 
higher, to meet the listening waiting God, was 
grander than all of these ; and better still, this 
child's prayer could pass onward to God, as 



30 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

surely as any offered by the wisest minister 
who has preached in any church; for it was a 
faithful, believing prayer ! 

When a man is so drunk that he loses the 
use of his body, then he must sleep until he 
rouses up, as you see men sleeping out their 
drunkenness on the streets ; and how terrible it 
is! But when a man can move his limbs in 
walking, the mind can be waked up, and he can 
be brought to think, to know, and to see again, 
what is around him, by some sudden, strong 
feeling sent to him, of happiness or grief. 

The father looks down at his child, and then 
up, as if trying to find God; and he hears agahu 
words from his boy, " O God, help us now, or 
we are lost !" 

He drops too on his knees; and in all that 
shining field, only those dark, kneeling figures; 
in all the silence — for the wind even, has stopped 
its sighing through the long grass — only prayer 
there ; and above, the Hearer of prayer ! . So 
they knelt; and in a moment, the father says, 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 31 

" I know the way now, my boy," and little Jim, 
trusting God with a new trust, and trusting the 
father, God had given him, with a new trust, 
clasps his hand, and together they walk quietly 
to their home. 

" Wife !" he calls to the pale tired wife, wait- 
ing for them to come, "my boy has saved me ! 
He prayed for his father, and God heard him : 
and I think I can pray too now, and be a bet- 
ter man to you and to Jim." 

Soon after, he moved far away, and we only 
heard that he ivas a better man. 

"Ask, and ye shall receive." Xow, boys, 
my dear boys, you see how any prayer to God, 
with faith in Christ, must be answered, in some 
way, some time in life, and for your good. In 
this need of prayer, we find the best meaning, 
the best teaching, from the first three com- 
mandments. 



CHAPTEK III. 

BREAKING THE SABBATH. 

TT7ILLIAM GRAY was now fourteen years 
" old ; a line, stout, brave-looking boy. The 
mother died a few w T eeks after her talk with 
the children that sunset evening; and Wil- 
liam's aunt came to their cottage to take care 
of the two boys. William had heard that mo- 
ther's gentle voice so often, and had heard her 
read the Bible so often, and talk to them of its 
promises, that perhaps he had listened less, and 
remembered less, than the others who had just 
heard and seen her now and then. 

So, one bright Sunday afternoon, we find him 
with some of the older boys, who listened, too, 
to that good mother, and there were other boys 
— a large party — with their poles for fishing, 
and a frying-pan, with a little lard, for their 
own fish-fry. Did you ever fry your own fish, 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 33 

boys, on the banks of James River, or over on 
one of the islands ? Well, these boys thought 
it fine fun. You have seen trout, and know 
what a nice fish it is? There were a great 
many trout in this river, as in most mountain 
streams, and they filled their basket ; then they 
made a little fire, and had their fish sputter- 
ing away, so that they looked as if they were 
alive. When the fish were done, a boy took 
them round in his hat, and the boys all shouted 
with laughter, and thought it very smart. You 
know some boys don't mind eating and drink- 
ing out of their hats — a bad plan, I think. 

A happy time it was. They had no thought 
of the church-bells, no memory for that other 
sunset, or the sweet solemn tones which said, 
"My children, God made that !" 

Perhaps Edgar Gray " remembered," for he 
was a gentle, true hearted boy, and loved his 
mother; but he was not firm enough to say to 
the older boys, " It is Sunday, and this is wrong." 

My boys, you must be firm if you would 



34 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

grow up good men — not only in doing the right 
thing at the right time, but in telling others 
when they are wrong, how to do right. 

When it was nearly time to go home, Wil- 
liam said, " I have some matches ; suppose we 
start up a little flame there at Mr. Lynch's 
hay -stack ; it will frighten him out of his wits ?" 

"But it will burn up;" and another ventured 
to say, "And it's so near Mrs. Hope's house." 

"Nonsense," answered William, "it will go 
right out." 

So they all followed "just to see." William 
tried one match, and then another, and they 
went right out; then he threw the whole box 
in. All at once the flame mounted up ; higher 
and higher it rose, and in a few minutes the 
whole large stack was burning. 

Mr. Lynch came, and, as he was fond of 
money, he just ran about — too grieved to think 
of anything else. No one thought of Mrs. 
Hope's cottage, and that, too, had caught. 
Before help came — for the neighbors, too, just 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 35 

ran here and there, and did very little — the 
smoke was pouring from the roof. The alarm 
was then given in the town, but they had not 
the number of good fire-engines and firemen, 
with trained horses, that we have in Rich- 
mond. 

Where was Joy ? Just a little while before, 
she ran out, leaving her grandmother asleep ; 
safe, as she knew, with the good people around 
her. Her yellow hair was flying, her cheeks 
rosy, her eyes brighter; like "Joy Hope" in- 
deed, as she ran to the grove for brush to 
make her grandmother's tea, and to toast her 
slice of bread. 

Now, when she sees the smoke, no joy in 
the dear face, as she flies back to the cottage. 
She don't wait to ask for help, but goes with 
her own strong little arms to pull and lead her 
grandmother from the flaming house. Her 
grandmother was already awake, and when she 
saw Joy safe, she was so glad, she walked 
stronger than she had done for years. Then 



36 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



"our Joy," when she had propped the feeble 
grandmother against a tree, ran back. 

" Grandmother's clothes ! " she says. 

But the choking flame and heat made her 
fall, and when the startled people, wild with 
fear as they were, brought her out — certain 
she was dead — the fair face lay untouched; 
even the long yellow curls had not burned; 
but she had fallen on some hot iron, and the 
muscles of her poor limbs were scorched and 
drawn — perhaps a cripple for life. 

As they carried her in sad procession, the 
dear Joy they loved — some of them helping 
the poor grandmother — her beautiful hair wav- 
ing as a yellow flag over the rough coat of a 
rough man, who gently held her pale face to 
his breast, his tears rained on that face, drawn 
in its great agony — but for the quivering of 
the muscles, like the face of one dead — and he 
tottered as he walked, even with his light 
weight. 

The next morning William Gray was taken 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 37 

before the court The boy who had broken 
one commandment could break another, and 
he swore that he had not set fire to the hay- 
stack; but Mr. Lynch swore that he had seen 
him do it ; and it was proved by others. 

When Joy's name was mentioned, he broke 
out into such a passion of sobs — that is, boys, 
a great burst of crying that you can't stop — 
they sentenced him only to three months in 
the county jail. And this was a very light 
sentence, when we think of all the trouble he 
had caused. They could just punish him for 
being mischievous with what another owned, 
for he had not intended so much harm; but 
they made that sentence lighter than it might 
have been, because of his grief for Joy. 

Poor Joy ! When it was known through 
the town that they had lost and suffered so 
much, money was raised to buy them a home ; 
not so. good as their own little cottage, but 
it was a shelter; and they had a small sum 
given to them to live on. This would not be 



38 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

done often, you know, boys; but Mrs. Hope 
had been kind to many herself, and she, as 
well as Joy, deserved to be kindly treated. 
Did you ever, my boys, hear a text like this ? 
" Cast thy bread upon the waters " (that is, give 
to others, without thought of yourselves, as to 
the effect on the world), "for thou shalt find 
it after many days" Now, if you will hunt 
for it, you will find this text in your Bible. 
You see, boys, I need to think of all this my- 
self, and it helps me, to try to think for you. 



CHAPTEE IY. 

THE LILIES. 

"POOR Joy," indeed! For a while sho 
•*■ couldn't move in bed, and she would 
scream out aloud, in her great pain. At last, 
she could be propped up in bed. One day the 
grandmother said, "You and me had better 
die, Joy!" 

"No, Granny, dear, God is not ready yet. 
This is such a beautiful world!" — and Joy was 
looking out of their only window at the green 
hills and the river. " Let us wait to enjoy it, 
Granny, for we might not have our eyes opened 
to see how pretty heaven is, if God were to 
take us as soon as we say we are ready. And, 
Granny, I have been thinking of the dear lady 
who talked to us children. She never talked 
to us, all together, again ; but once I went up 



40 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

to her porch, and she put her hand on my head, 
and said, ' Take no thought, for see the lilies ;' 
and as she said lilies, she pressed my head more, 
and looked so tender out of her dark eyes. 

"I think, Granny, she would mean that we 
are not to be afraid, for God will take care of 
us, as He makes the lilies grow. You know she 
gave me a little book full of verses from the 
Bible; it was in my pocket at the fire; and 
maybe, Granny, darling, I have been made such 
a lame girl to have nothing to do, but to tell 
people about her texts." 

You see how Joy "remembered," with pa- 
tience, faith, and love ! When she was still 
stronger, a lady made her a large cushion, and 
they would put her in front of the door to look 
out at the sunshine she loved. With the cot- 
tage so dark at her back, she looked very 
white and pure. The children, boys and girls, 
loved to gaze at her ; and after a little while, 
as she seemed so glad to see them, they loved 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 41 

to come in to hear Joy talk "like herself;" and 
they would go away with something from the 
Bible to learn "for Joy." The boys heard her 
speak so often of her "lily" text, they would 
bring first one jar, with a lily blooming, and 
then another, to set by her on the floor; and 
people passing, would say, " Which is the 
fairest lily?" 

With "patience, faith, and love," shining in 
her sweet face, we may say that Joy was a lily 
of heaven; and surely, boys, fairer than the 
lily of earth ! 

This is a very little chapter, and just about 
lilies ; but are not lilies always kept apart ? Do 
we ever plant them, with other flowers in our 
gardens? And we have only to look at them 
to know why this is so, as they stand in their 
white clusters, among the roses and the rows 
of princess-feathers on the Oakwood road ; for 
have you not seen them there ? 

Is it not the same way with good boys and 



42 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

girls? Don't they go together, and grow to- 
gether ? And the same way with good " grown 
people." Don't they go together, and get 
stronger and better together ? — more like the 
lilies — more like heaven ! 



CHAPTEK Y. 

THE SON OF A GOOD MOTHEK. 

WILLIAM GRAY was kindly treated, for 
so many loved his mother. Flowers were 
sent to him, and better food than the jail fare ; 
and he heard from all around him, gentle words 
to cheer him, but he always looked cross, as if 
he did not care ; and when he was left alone, 
they would hear dreadful curses, to come from 
a boy's lips ! He never asked about Joy. 

As the time passed, he grew so despairing 
and unhappy, he scarcely spoke a word. As 
he thought he had nothing else to care for, and 
no one left here to care for him, a great need 
came of his mother, and her words of love. 
One night, when all alone, he threw himself 
on the hard floor ; his sorrow too great to bear. 
In a month he must meet his old friends, and 
take up life again, and he thought he would 



44 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

rather stay in jail. How could he live and be 
called " jail-bird," — with no one to own him or 
love him any more % 

"O mother, mother!'' he cries; that mother 
•could not come, could not answer; but the 
mother's prayers had brought an answer to the 
motherless child. 

As he turned his head, he saw through the 
narrow window one bright star, and he "re- 
membered" how his mother had often pointed 
to a star, as so pure and soft in its brightness, 
it reminded her of God's love. " Perhaps it is 
mother's star," he says, and in a little while, " I 
remember she told me so much of Jesus; how 
he said, ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and 
are heavy laden.' I am down low ; I am 
weary; perhaps He would hear me now. O 
Jesus Christ, hear me ; show me how to live !" 
And over and over, in that night, came the 
words of prayer to the Saviour, who says, " Ask 
and ye shall receive," until at last he slept, still 
on the hard floor. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



45 



The morning came and found him sleeping 
there; the star was gone, but a sun of yet 
brighter hope had risen; and, my boys, his first 
words were prayer ! Through that last month, 
text after text from his mother's lips w r as "re- 
membered," to teach him better, how to pray r 
how to hope, until, from prayer to prayer — 
stronger and stronger in his faith in God — ] ie 
came put of jail ready to teach others to pray 
and to trust. The very boys who listened with 
him that sunset evening, were brought by him 
to "remember;" and though he afterwards- 
stood in pulpits, to lead many to the way his 
mother had taught so well by her sweet life y 
Joy and her grandmother ever found him a 
son and brother ; and as Joy was able to limp 
about on crutches — after long waiting and suf- 
fering — it was her delight to help him. 

And now, my dear boys, because I feel that 
I have been such a poor teacher to you, even 
as my own, I would talk to you now. I have 
wanted, by these stories, to show you the value 



46 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

of attention, for I found it hard to make boys, 
who play ball on the hills, stop to listen and 
think. Try to listen to whatever may make 
you better and firmer in the right, and try to 
remember. 

I have wanted to show you, how an effort to 
do good to others, may bring happiness and 
good, by ways you know not of. One eve- 
ning's talk, it has been shown to you, may 
bring good to all who listen, but it will be in 
God's way; every nature perhaps demanding 
some way different from another. I have 
wanted to show you what prayer is. Never 
think that prayer will not be answered ; but re- 
member that it must be in God's way. In all 
the play and work of the day — not only pray- 
ing in the morning and in the evening — you 
may offer Jim's little prayer. When you go 
to Sunday-school, remember that the teacher is 
not only sent there for you by God ; but you 
are sent by God to the teacher, with your duty 
to her, or to him, and to the whole school; and 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



47 



you must try to send up a little prayer to God, 
to help you, the teacher, and all who teach in 
the school. You must try to come, every time, 
to lead others to come; you must listen and 
" remember" that God is there, in answer to 
your prayer. 

I say this, not only to Addy, to little Willy 
Miller, to Peyton and Alexander Baughan, and 
others, who seemed to care most for me, but 
with the same interest for every boy who 
came, though only for a day, to the class, " sent 
by God." 

I gave one of the boys a text, and I want 
now to give the same text to all. The mean- 
ing of this text is, that prayer — with faith in 
the Father and the Son — will be answered by 
the "presence" of the Holy Spirit, u the Com- 
forter," to lead us right, to bring us final "rest," 
from the assurance that God is with us through 
every trouble of life ! 

" My presence shall go with thee, and I will 
give thee rest." (Ex. xxxiii. 14.) 



48 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

This text is, as you see, from the Old Testa- 
ment, and it passes onward, with many beauti- 
ful promises in the Bible, until in the New 
Testament it stands side by side with the pro- 
mise of Christ, " Ask, and ye shall receive ;" and 
again, " I will not leave you comfortless." 

I must tell you one thing more, and I am 
done. In riding out from Richmond, I used 
to pass an old hollow, filled with tangled growth. 
I could not bear to pass it, for I thought only 
of slimy earth, and of lizards, snakes, and all 
the creeping things that might be there. A 
great storm came, and when I went again, some 
of the trees had been broken by the storm, and 
there were patches of sunlight, where all had 
been so dark. I saw a beautiful stream of 
water far below, with green ferns and green 
grass and vines. 

Many weeks passed, and when I rode by my 
old hollow once more, all the rough growth had 
been cleared away, and only the finest trees had 
been left there to bring shelter and shade. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 49 

While some thorny bushes and poisonous weeds 
were there, beautiful flowers and other plants 
had sprung up to meet the light, for the sun- 
light was everywhere — around, above, with a 
new strength and blessing. 

Now, boys, can't this remind you of the 
human soul? Remember William Gray, and 
how dark and comfortless his heart was, until, 1 
thought after thought of prayer, turned to meet 
the light of God's love ! 

The poisonous weeds of sin could not choke 
out the beautiful flowers of faith and hope 
reaching out to that light and love. 

Now one of you, " my boys," may pass by 
what was my old hollow on the turnpike road, 
and perhaps he may think of this; and I trust 
he may say, " It was like my soul, for light is 
there at last!" 



CHAPTEK VI. 

I FIND it must be a long time before I meet 
any of you again, and I want to talk to you 
a little more. We can take up now the six 
commandments which show our duty to our 
neighbor, — that is, to all men. 

It seems to me, as Mrs. Gray said, that we 
have only to understand and keep in our hearts 
the duty to God taught in the first four com- 
mandments, and our duty to man must be made 
plain. Don't it seem so to you ? 

The story I am going to tell you is about 
the fifth commandment. 

The Last Evening at Home. 

Boys, don't you know how bright it looks 
when you run in, a cold evening, from your 
play on Libby Hill? The father and mother 
there, the little sisters, — perhaps the lamp not 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 51 

lighted yet, but a fire to warm your cold hands, 
and make your cheeks redder still. 

With gas-lights, fine furniture, and many 
rooms, it is only, after all, a real home, as it 
may be made happy by love and kindness ; and 
with the few rooms, or the one room, one 
lamp, and perhaps not quite enough fire for 
the mother, father, and all the children, it is as 
the hearts, glad and thankful to be together, 
make it a real home. 

The room I show you now looked very 
snug, as if for a happy family; but happiness 
is often not where it ought to be, and where it 
might be. A little table drawn up before the 
fire for supper; three plates ready there; the 
tea-kettle steaming away, as if it cannot wait 
much longer ; the lamp turned down very low ; 
but the red light from the fire shines on the 
bright tins and china in the cupboard, on the 
old, high clock in the corner, the few Bible 
pictures on the wall, and there, over the mantle, 
the ten commandments. There is comfort, 



52 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

cheer and welcome in the old room, as you can 
see, for some one yet to come. 

Then the light seems to rest with blessing, 
on two figures sitting there, waiting, with 
anxious faces, for the "some one" dear to their 
hearts. The white hair parts over the gentle 
mother's face, — hair whitened by care; for she 
looks strong enough still, to bear trouble, and 
the face is a face of trust and hope, because 
prayer is in the mother's heart for her only 
child. The father, with his gray hair combed 
straight back, is older than the white-haired 
mother, and he looks older than he is, — too 
old to work in the machine-shop near by, as he 
tries to do, day after day. Jerry Hooper has 
had a life to break him down, for Silas, his 
only boy, for years, spent all his old father 
could make, and he has had to struggle very 
hard; the little help the son gives now, given 
with many a curse for the patient father and 
mother waiting there, with love to the last, and 
prayer to the last, for their boy. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 53 

A step is heard, and the mother turns up the 
lamp, and listens, — her face full of light, not 
from the fire-light, or the lamp-light, but from 
the mother's joy! for is not this son coming to 
his home, the only child of her love I 

A great, strong, well-dressed, red-faced man 
comes in. He would have been handsome, if 
he had hot had a hard, cruel, selfish look, — the 
look, boys, that makes a man look like a wild 
beast, instead of a man. 

" Well, old coves, bow is it with you i Some- 
thing to give a man to cat J" 

"O Silas, only say thai you are glad to see 
ns, after being away so Long!" and the mother's 
arms arc around bis neck, and her dear fare asks 
just one kind word from the son coming home. 

"No whining! that white bead ought to 
teach you better. You ought to have learned, 
by this time, that I don't want any nonsense." 

" Silas, do yon dare to speak so to your mo- 
ther?" 

But that mother gives one pleading touch to 



54 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

the old man's hand, as she passes, and he says 
not another word. She falls out of sight a 
moment, to hide her tears, and quietly brings 
the supper, kept waiting so long. 

They eat, — or the son eats, and as he had 
talked — like a brute, rather than a man. 

After the plates and cups had been moved, 
and the table set back, Jerry Hooper looks 
long at his son, his good old face full of sor- 
row. 

" Silas, are you always to be like this?" 

"No, I expect to be going down, about as 
fast as you say you are going up." 

With low, trembling voice, the poor father 
says, "Silas, you don't come to us to help us, 
but I must tell you that the rent is to be paid. 
I am worn out — your father ! and this is your 
mother. Can you let us be turned away ? Can 
you see your mother suffer?" 

The son jumps up, and stands with a face of 
fury, in front of the only father and mother 
life could give him. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. OD' 

" You talk to me of father and mother and 
rent, and I am up to my ears in trouble ! " 

It is the mother who speaks, and so tenderly f 
" Silas, what is your trouble now? Tell me,, 
and let me do something for you." 

"It is enough for me to settle, I'm sure;, 
but," with a laugh, "what can you do? If you 
want to know, it's just this : I asked John Wren 
for money for you, and he was soft-hearted 
enough to give it to me, taking a claim on my 
share of the mill. This is bad enough, for 
one night! At Jim Scott's, I cleared out that, 
and a good deal more, with poor luck at cards," 
but Jim knows that about me to put me right 
in the penitentiary, if I don't pay him all I 
owe him, and that's the big trouble ; so it's a 
straight cut for me! When folks "wear out," 
they have just got to hang up, and make an 
end of it. As to keeping you in clover, when 
you are worn out, why, I say, make a start for 
the better world you have talked so much 



56 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

about." And turning as he goes, "You have 
•seen the last of me ! " 

He looks up, and above the mantel, his eyes 
fall a moment on words, where the light seemed 
to point for him ; and those words were, " Honor 
thy father and thy mother, that thy days may 
be long upon the land which the Lord thy God 
giveth thee." 

The mother stretches out her arms : " Silas, 
O my son! — my dear son, come back!" But 
he is gone; and this was his last evening at 
home ! 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE MUBDEKER. 

THE Hoopers lived near one of our Virginia 
depots, where houses were scattered over the 
hills, to be close to the railroad. 

Silas Hooper walked steadily on for a while, 
and then, as if with a new idea, went off,, 
hiding through the trees, until he stood by a 
square white house, w T ith a long porch covered 
with vines, and a look of comfort, as if people 
might be glad to live there — as if it was a "real 
home." He looks through' the blind of a low 
window, and sees the mother already gone to- 
rest ; one hand on a child's crib — a baby sleep- 
ing there — two other children on a little bed. 
Haven't you seen your little sisters and brothers,. 
boys, look when asleep, as if dreaming of 
heaven; not as older people look, who have 
sinned and suffered more? Surely the man 



58 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

looking in ought to have had better thoughts 
put in his heart, but he only sees that the one 
he wanted is not there. He moves further, 
and stops at the window of another room, and 
he stands there only a moment. John Wren 
sleeps yet on that sofa in the little parlor ; the 
fire dying out, but the lamp still burning shows 
sl face, not as peaceful and pure, perhaps, as a 
little child's, but the face of an honest man, 
who, doing his best in his duty to God, was 
able '*to do unto all men, as he would they 
should do unto him." 

Silas Hooper, with one pull of his 6trong 
arm, has the shutter open, and, with a spring, 
is by the man he owes; and the man who has, 
he remembers, the money to pay the next 
morning, in wages to the mill-hands. Not a 
soul near, except the sleeping wife and chil- 
dren. He don't 6top to think. The sofa- 
cushion is pressed tightly on the eyes never to 
open again; and his fingers fasten on the 
-throat, until no cry for help can come; and 



A TALK WITH STY CLASS. 5$ 

there he stands, until the eyeballs almost start 
from the man's head, and, with the last strug- 
gle, he is dead ! The money is in his pockets,, 
and the son of a good father and mother, now 
a murderer, seizes the notes, and rushes down 
the road like one mad. No man to see him in 
his terrible sin; but God sees him, and keeps 
him back, perhaps to be saved by his mother's 
prayers. A trap for bears — for it was near 
the mountains — caught his leg, as he was run- 
ning, certain that lie could catch the night 
train for the West. There he was found ; the 
money was found on him, and he was put in 
jail the next morning. 

My boys, a man might not be caught and 
punished by law, but he could never for- 
get the face of the dying human being. I re- 
member passing a man very often; a great, 
strong-looking man, who always seemed startled 
and frightened, as if something followed him. 
One day a friend whispered, "They say he 
killed a man in California ; it wasn't proved on 



60 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



him, though." And this man ever saw, right 
b>y him, the last look of the man he had killed ; 
not that the one dead had the power to come 
back, and to be always a shadow^ very near 
hum, but he constantly remembered the look 
of the dying — dead by his hand. 

When you grow older, if in great anger, 
you ever feel like taking the life of a fellow- 
creature, try to think how it must be with you. 
God may forgive you, but you can never for- 
get! 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

THE LAST EVENING IN JAIL. 

JEEKY HOOPEE and his wife bad been 
witb their guilty son every day. All 
through his awful curses, witb the pain of bis 
wounded leg, and through his trial, his patient 
mother had soothed and comforted and prayed. 
His sentence, that he was to be hung, seemed 
the last; but it was not the last for her. Now 
only a few hours! At ten o'clock the next 
day her boy must pass from her sight for ever ! 
but with one hope, she staid by his side, her 
faith never failing. 

For days he had been more quiet, and had 
seemed to love to have her near him. 

Boys, I cannot bear to tell you what 1 heard 
about the son's last hours with his mother. 
When they came in the morning, they found 
him on his knees by that mother, and her face 



62 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

was the face of a mother who had found her 
son and given him to his God! 

And Mary Hooper, the mother of a mur- 
derer, lived a year, or more, and rejoiced for 
the son God had forgiven, and, in mercy, had 
taken to Himself! 

Again, I say, remember, and keep in your 
hearts, the sixth commandment, — "Thou shalt 

not kill r 

The next commandment, "Thou shalt not 
commit adultery," may well be added here. 
This means that we must keep our thoughts 
pure; loving only the good, and pure, and 
true ; loving only what God has given us to 
love; seeking only the hopes, the joys, the 
fears that He has intended for us. Our thoughts 
will never, then, lower our fellow creatures ; 
will then ever prove pure, honest thoughts, to 
make ourselves and others better. Well, my 
boys, may we put the two commandments 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 63 

together, as chiefly showing the greatest of 
Christian virtues, in our duty to mankind. 

"And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, 
these three; but the greatest of these is 
charity."' In keeping truly the >ixth and 
seventh commandments, you may well feel 
that you p;t- beyond the law given to you 
there, into that charity greater than all! S»ine 
day. you can ask a minister of the gospel, who 
can explain it better than I can. the meaning 
of that "charity" Bpoken of in the Bible, and 
you may understand what 1 want to teach you 
about these commandment-. 



CHAPTEK IX. 

"THOU SHALT NOT STEAL." 

I WANT to take you back to the town where 
Jim Lawson and Joy Hope lived. 

I told you of children, who looked out on 
green fields, and played in the lanes, and 
waded in the river, as if a town was not right 
there, so near to them. You must go with me 
now to the upper edge of this same town, 
where the houses were closer together, still not 
the houses of the rich people of the little town, 
and the larger stores, too, were on the other 
streets. 

In a garret room, with a great many steps 
to climb to get there, a mother sat with three 
boys. 

The two older boys worked at a factory to 
sort rags, and had just come in. 

The boys, who had been sitting over the 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 65 

Tags all day, with just the little dinner they 
carried with them, and just a little time to eat 
it, felt that they never were so hungry before. 
The little brother was hungry, waiting for 
them, and so they went right to work with 
their bread and milk, and until they had done, 
they didn't see how sorry and tired their 
mother looked. They loved their mother so 
much ! 

" Why, what's the matter, mother?" 

"I was thinking, Charlie, of my old home 
in Richmond, of how much money I spent 
there, and how it would help us now." 

John, the biggest boy, says; "Mother, just 
wait and see." And lie looks very strong and 
big, to his little brother, who listens, without 
knowing what it all means. 

"You know, children, when your father 
went away, and I found we had so little money, 
I moved out here, thinking we could do better 
in a smaller place, but everything has gone 
wrong. It is nothing but work! If I had 



66 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

only saved money when we had it, to give you 
a chance for schooling." 

Little Willie climbs on her knee: "Mamma, 
don't he so sorry 'bout doing bad; sposen we 

start being good now." 

"That's it, Willie. I'll not give up! I will 

make money, and my boys shall have a chance 
yet, and with the best." 

She looked BO pretty, and so white, and so 

"tired," the three children felt that they must, 
somehow, help her, and not wait for her to do 
SO much for them; hut they didn't know how 
to help her, and mother and children didn't 
think once about asking God's help. 

The winter was very hard for them. Mrs. 
Spencer, the yonng mother, was taken sick in 
January, and the two older boys had to spend 
many day- at home, out of work. The neigh- 
bors were very kind to them, but it was still a 
hard winter. 

John was sometimes employed by an old 
Jew to mind his store,, when he went out, for 



A TALK WITH MY GLASS. 0. 

the Spencer boys were taught by their mother 
to he such gentlemen, everybody trusted them. 

John Btood by Mr. Rose's open desk one Sat- 
urday evening, looking at the heaps o{ money. 
Old Mr. Rose might ask him to stay that eve 
ning, and what would not five dollars buy for 
mother? But, if he waited, they would know 
he took ii : bo, in a moment, ** £ >r mother," he 
thought, the money was in his ban I. 

Mr. Rose could nol Bee John win re he 
Looking over the week's bills, and pres< ntly he 
said : " John, Btay here a while, for d 
the Saturday's market." 

" I iy — indeed I Can't ] 111'. 

mother." 

\\ hen John Spencer got home, no le- 
an honest boy for his mothef's pride, it was 

late, and kind people near them had Bent food 

to last Until Monday: bo he put the money in 

his pocket, and pinned it tightly there, lor that 
deai- mother's breakfast Monday, and for din- 
ner, breakfast, and supper, for many day-, lie 



68 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

tried to be glad and to think that he had done 
right; for while these boys had been taught to 
be gentlemen, they had not been taught to 
keep God's commandments. 

When Sunday came, John could not get over 
the idea that he had taken what did not belong 
to him; for it was the first time. As he wan- 
dered round the town, lie went into a room 
where Christian people had opened a Sunday- 
school. He had sometimes been there before, 
and he thought he might learn there that it was 
right, after all, to take "just a little money 
for mother." 

It was a Sunday-school like the one at the 
Old Market Hall, with boys sticking pins into 
the good bovs, talking loud, whistling, and 
fighting — "only a little" — but enough to inter- 
rupt, and make the teachers look troubled and 
worn out. But, here and there, would be a 
boy or girl willing to learn; and I am very 
sure that, one by one, all will grow to love the 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 69 

patient teaching, if teachers and scholars live 
and learn lon^ together. 

John Spencer Bat down, scarcely seeming to 
notice, until he heard a teacher call out, 
"Children, try to say the ten commandments. 93 
She had to read them — the Longer ones — for 
they would not even try t<> say them; hut the 
short commandments were easy to them, and 
John heard a Bweel voice say, in dear tones, 
that seemed to call to hini for answer, " Thou 

shalt not -teal." Then the teacher explained 
how wrong it was to -teal. 

John listened, and when he went down those 

stop-, and <>ut with the Crowd, he said, " I 

cin't Bpend this, even (<>r mother." All that 
evening he was more and more Borry, until 

that Dight, he felt that lie couldn't keep the 
money any longer, and he Btole oul to Mr. 
Rose's store. It was easy to get in at the back 
window. "They had not finished locking np," 
he thought. 

As he was about to put the money on the 



70 ATALK WITH MY CLASS. 

desk, something sharp struck his arm, and he 
fell. The windows had been left open on pur- 
pose, and the bullet intended for another, had 
struck the real thief. 

" If I had only known," said poor Mr. Rose, 
" the policeman wouldn't have been there." 

He was taken back to his mother — the boy 
who had said to her, " Wait and see." But it 
was the boy, too, who had gone to bed almost 
every night of his life, without a thought of 
God. 



CHAPTER X. 

UNCLE ZACK. 

IT was an old gray house, set back in a large 
green yard, near where the Spencers lived. 
The father, mother, and children were sitting 
at their breakfast-table. 

" Father, have you heard about John Spen- 
cer ?" asks William Lee. 

"Yes, and I am not surprised to hear it. 
Those are nice, quiet boys, but they have not 
been trained by their mother to understand 
and keep God's commandments." 

"Mrs. Lee says, I hear the father is coming 
back to them, and it may be best for them all, 
to have this trouble to bear. I think, chil- 
dren, Uncle Zack would tell you that it must 
be for the best." 

"Let's go to see Uncle Zack," asks Eddie, 
and Mary and Annie say, " Yes ; please go, Wil- 



72 A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

liam, and just after breakfast, for it's holiday 
at school ?" 

With the loving good-bye to father and 
mother, of children who knew well how to 
obey the fifth commandment, they were off to 
Uncle Zack's — an old colored man they dearly 
loved, who lived at the end of their street. 

Uncle Zack was sitting at the door " Like one 
cat," he said, " sunshine nuff for Zack!" 

The Lee party was always followed by other 
boys and girls, to hear Uncle Zack talk; but 
William and Eddie Lee were his favorites, for 
they were ever ready to read the Bible — right 
there, at his elbow. William is soon reading the 
fourteenth chapter of St. John's gospel. 

"The book alays opens jest thar," Uncle 
Zack says. 

He listens, too happy to talk, but at the 
words, " Let not your heart be troubled," 

"Chillen, sartain dat's enuff; ef we lef our 
trouble behine dar wid Jesus, wat we want 
more, 'ceptin we jes wants to go ahed. We 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. i 3 

kan't sot down an 5 do nnthin. 'Pray widout 
ceasrn.' Keep rite close to God, or human 
nater will be a slippin' an' er slidin', rite back 
whar she cum fnun. 'Pray widout ceasin\ 
I tells you, chillen, sum uv ole Satan's ways 
has to be prayed agin mity hard ! Thar's tellin 5 
storys; let em take one good start, air dey 
thrives on you, like titers in a tater-hill. I 
lias sumtliin to tell you 'bout dis here. I was 
a sit tin' here 'fore you cum. I think I was 
inos' sleep, but 1 hears a fuss, an' sum boys had 
start to play ball in dat lot next to de meetin'- 
house. Well, I Bced a boy's ball knock rite in 
de fine red an' blue winder, an 5 he seed it too; 
now t'other boy, an' he was dat pore boy, Tom 
Gregg; his ball went by, an 5 didn't do one bit 
of harm, but he was a winkin' uv his eyes, air 
he didn't see wich ball broke de Posticus hed 
rite off, in do red air blue winder. De lice- 
man cum along, an' tuk Tom Gregg, 'cans he 
seed his ball as bo cum round de corner, an' 



74-. A TALE WITH MY CLASH. 

t'other boy sed not one word y an' he aint gwine 
to say nuthin eider." 

"You going to tell on him y Uncle Zack?" 
"I dun kno; dat's on my mine," says Uncle 
Zack. " Tom Gregg's mother is mity pore, 
an' kant pay dat fine. Chillen, I wants to 
hear dat mandment I speaks uv now. Giv 
it to me out uv Scriptur." 

Eddie reads, " Thou shalt not bear false wit- 
ness against thy neighbor." 

"Now de Inglish of dat is dis here, — -don't 
yon tell storys ! — lies, I calls em, an' dey makes 
a boy mean, 'fore he kno uv it. You see it's 
jes' as bad to keep de truff back as to tell an 
out an' out lie. Eff a boy tells lies, he aint 
gwine to stop at nuthin ; an' dere's anuther 
meanness dat cums up close arter it. Dat's de 
las mandment ; read dat for Zack." 

" Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house ; 
thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor 
his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. I 3 

ox, nor Lis ass, nor anything that is thy neigh- 
bor's." 

"O ehillen!" — and he rises in his chair in 
his excitement — "tras' de Lord; feel sartain 
dat He kno' bes' how to vide out. Don't wan' 
nuthin longin' to t'other folks, for greef an'' 
sorror, an' great trouble mus' cum uv it ! 
T'was w T en de Lord set us free, wen I was 
livin' on my ole marsters land, down near 
Melia Courthouse. Well, I looked over at 
Brudder Wilson's orchid an' tater-patch, wich 
want on my marster's land, til I got to hankerin 5 
arter dat orchid an' tater-patch, too bad to liv, 
I did sumthin' mean to make Brudder Wilson 
sel me dat house of hisn, wid de orchid an' 
tater-patch; an,' ehillen, my ole ooman couldn't 
stan' seein' me — a preecher of nigh forty year — 
go agin de Scriptur, an' she got sicker an' 
sicker til she died. Well, de six boys an' gals, 
wid Scriptur names, was all sold away at de 
South, an' when my ole ooman went, I giv de 
orchid an' tater-patch, wid de house too, back 



76 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 



to Brudder Wilson; an,' chillen, sence dat day 
I has tried to trus' in de Lord !" 

The tears were rolling down Uncle Zack's 
face, and some of the children were crying. 

"Don't you cry, my chillen, for Zack, but 
let lone t'other folks' things, an' trus' de Lord ! 
-Want apple longin to nuther boy, an' it leave 
a very bad tast! I likes white chillen, — you 
knows I^does. I likes all white folks, air dey 
bothers me now." 

"How, Uncle Zack?" asks William Lee. 
"Why, you see, a rage for an idee runs 
through, like yaller fever, an' de small-pox, an' 
de hooping-cough, an' de measles, an' de chil- 
len's teething." 

"That aint catching, Uncle Zack." 
"No, I guess 'taint, Miss Annie, but it's 
pretty nigh, it seems like ; so many takes to it. 
An' jes so wid an idee; an' it's that way bout 
edecating colored folks. I tells de white folks, 
caus I loves em, dey bes spread deyseves an' 
edecate der own trash. You see, de colored 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 77 

folks follers, an' de white folks leads, — dats 
dere nater, — an 5 when sin takes a tite grip on 
white folks, widout ligion, dey goes fas' an' dey 
goes fur. I don't mean disrespec', boys, I 
means dis: de white folks bes edecate deyseves 
wile dey edecates de colored folks. Dey 
better go high an' low, an' giv' out ligion to 
all; for sin, sartain sure, can tak' a good hold 
on white folks, ef dey tries to go long widout 
ligion. De colored folks follers, an' de white 
folks leads, so let de white folks what's got 
'ligious larning, edecate all dey got on han', 
an' den dey will go straight ahed togither. I 
is ^trubled," says Uncle Zack, looking very 
solemn, "but de Lord will pervide." 

I hope Uncle Zack may make the boys and 
girls I write for, feel even more kindly to the 
good old colored people around us. I remem- 
ber such a family as the Lees, and I wish I 
could tell you all about them, but I can only 
say a few more words. 



78 A TALK WITH MY CLASS*. 

This "talk" about the ten commandments 
is intended to show that they were written as 
much for the people who live now, as for the 
people who lived in the time of the Old Testa- 
ment. You must feel that they are surely to 
guide you, my boys, every day you live, and if 
you act from this belief and teaching, you 
must grow up good and useful men. 



Yield not to temptation, 

For yielding is sin; 
Each victory will help you 

Some other to win; 
Fight manfully onward, 

Dark passions subdue ; 
Look ever to Jesus, 

He'll carry you through. 

Ask the Saviour to help you, 
Comfort, strengthen, and keep } T ou ; 
He is willing to aid you, 
He will carry you through. 



A TALK WITH MY CLASS. 

Shun evil companions, 

Bad language disdain ; 
God's name hold in rev'rence, 

Nor take it in yam; 
Be thoughtful and earnest, 

Kind-hearted and true; 
Look ever to Jesus, 

He'll carry you through, 

To him that o'ercometh 

God giveth a crown; 
Through faith we shall conquer, 

Though often cast down; 
He who is our Saviour 

Our strength will renew; 
Look ever to Jesus, 

He'll carry you through. 



79 









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